


wreath of starlight

by chaos_ineffable



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Aziraphale is Blathers, Aziraphale is Not Oblivious (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Mess (Good Omens), Getting Together, Kind of a crossover, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sort Of, Stargazing, but for like half a chapter, but no characters from animal crossing show up, it's just the idea of living on a deserted island, they move way fast guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: Aziraphale is not looking forward to island life. Sure, there will be fossils and probably other old things, but there will also be bugs. Aziraphale doesn't do bugs. However, he finds that he does do unprofessional men in too tight pants that insist on bringing him bugs. With Anthony J. Crowley always nearby, Aziraphale might find a way to make island life work.Or, the Animal Crossing crossover nobody asked for.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	1. Wretched Things

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing Animal Crossing: New Horizons non-stop for a week. Blathers is my favorite character, by far, partly because he's adorable and partly because he reminds me of Aziraphale. With is little bow tie, his freaking vocabulary, and his love of old things, he's basically Aziraphale in owl form. And I think we all know Anthony J. Crowley, Demon Troublemaker, would be out there digging holes and cutting down trees like a madman. 
> 
> So I had to write this because it just fit too well. The second, and probably last, chapter is finished. It just needs to be edited. It should go up next Sunday.

Aziraphale loves old things. He loves to be surrounded by the scent of ancient dust and the sound of old, creaking things. He loves the feel of rough, yellowed pages and timeworn hand-sewn fabric under his gloved fingers. He loves sharing the wonders of ancient things with people, teaching about the history of bones and papyrus. But he can’t stand the way people think they can touch these beautiful objects. 

That is why he opened a museum. People can look but no one is allowed to touch.

He had never expected to get a call from Gabriel about moving to a deserted island to open a museum. Apparently, the island Gabriel was trying to inhabit had some very promising wildlife and showed signs of having even more promising fossils. 

And, well, Aziraphale could never say no to a good fossil. 

So here he is, nearly two months later, on a barely inhabited island in the middle of the ocean, living in a brand-new museum, and spending his days surrounded by fossils, fish, and insects. He grimaces and shakes the invisible legs he can feel scurrying across his skin away. Just the thought of the wretched little things makes him shudder. Their squirmy legs and probing antennae and those ghastly eyes. No, sir, he was not a fan of the six-legged buggers. 

And yet he was collecting them, for his museum, because that was his job. A poor decision on his part.

But every bad situation has a silver lining, as they say.

And if Aziraphale’s silver lining has red hair, amber-brown eyes, and hips that could seduce the devil, well, that’s his own business.

“Hey, Aziraphale. Got some more donations.” Anthony J. Crowley drawls, ducking into his tiny office, hidden away in a corner of the museum, a bulging knapsack resting on his back. Today, his auburn hair is pulled into a half-bun, a few strands slipping free and draping over his newest pair of sunglasses.

“Crowley! Wonderful! What delightful things have you brought me today?” He has to force himself not to clap his hands together like a child. This is a professional situation and he will treat it as such. Even if Anthony J. Crowley - with his casual black jeans and a dark t-shirt, his nonchalant slouch, and the way he sashays through life, hips swaying side to side - is the personification of anti-professionalism.

Apparently, Aziraphale finds that very hot.

Crowley pulls the knapsack from his back and places it on the floor with great care. Aziraphale tries to peek inside as he undoes the strings keeping the top securely shut but the back of Crowley’s head blocks his view from any of the treasures inside.

“Figured I’ll start with the good stuff,” Crowley purrs, pulling something that looks very dusty and very old out of the bag. “No idea what it is but that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

In his long hands lies a jawbone. It’s not quite twice the length of an average hand and is full of widely-spaced, serrated, and very sharp teeth. As far as Aziraphale can tell from one glance, it is fully intact.

“Oh my…” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly to get a better look, “this is quite extraordinary, my dear. Wherever did you find it?” He lifts the fossil delicately from Crowley’s calloused fingers and does not imagine what those hands would feel like laced with his own thick fingers or running through his hair or tracing patterns into his skin or- 

Oh, dear. He had better stop there before he makes things very awkward indeed.

“It’s fully intact,” he distracts himself with the wonderful dinosaur specimen in front of him, “Not a tooth missing, barely any signs of damage at all. Oh, Crowley, this is a beautiful specimen. Thank you for bringing it in. I will have to take a closer look at it later. It’s so rare to find a fossil in this good of condition.” He runs a finger over one serrated tooth and smiles. “People often think that Velociraptors were quite large creatures, but they rarely grew taller than a modern-day turkey. Yet they were still skillful hunters and usually ate any number of small creatures, including insects, amphibians, and even other dinosaurs. They were really quite amazing creatures.”

“It sounds like they were,” Crowley snorts, amusement clear in his voice. 

Aziraphale makes eye contact, at least he tries to. It’s hard to tell with the sunglasses Crowley purchased a few weeks ago and has refused to stop wearing. His collection is immense. It often feels like he has a new pair every day. It is impossible to tell where Crowley is looking with the dark lenses blocking his eyes, but sometimes, he thinks he feels Crowley’s heavy gaze on him. 

He feels a blush start to spread over his cheeks at the thought of those wondrous amber eyes on him and clears his throat, placing the jawbone on his desk. “Sorry for blathering at you, dear boy. What else do you have in store for me, hm?”

Crowley grins and bends over the knapsack again. “You’ll like this one. Took me all morning to catch. The little bugger kept getting loose before I could reel him in.” He pulls out a medium-sized tank, probably five or six liters from the look of it. Inside is a bright red fish, its scales a radiant scarlet in the low light of Aziraphale’s lanterns.

“A Red Snapper! Marvelous, my dear! Look at that coloring! There are actually 113 species of fish called snappers. However, I have never understood why the chosen name for any of this variety was ‘Red Snapper.’ Truly, a missed opportunity on some clever names.” He stutters to an embarrassed halt, realizing that he is once again rambling aimlessly. “Do you have anything else?”

A devious smirk sneaks onto Crowley’s face and he reaches into the knapsack one last time. Aziraphale is suddenly very nervous.

“I saved the best for last, angel.” Crowley grins, pulling a rectangular bug box out of the bag.

The bright green lid taunts Aziraphale. He swallows hard and reaches out, lets Crowley place the vile thing in his hands, and tries not to gag. Inside the box is an orchid mantis. Its flowery appendages stick from its thin frame like some kind of monstrous growth. Its mandibles open and shut idly, its head twitching from side to side, the two massive eyes shining in the light, almost obstructing the three small eyes between. Its looking right at him, he can feel it. One wrong move, and he’ll be mantis lunch.

Aziraphale pales and looks at Crowley with a nervous smile. “The best? Are you quite sure there isn’t one more donation in that bag of yours?”

Crowley snickers and throws the now clearly empty bag over one shoulder, “Nope, that’s it. Aren’t you excited about the new bug, angel?” His eyes glint mischievously and his grin is slowly growing.

Aziraphale rolls his eyes and places the insect with the other donations. “You are a fiend. You know very well how I feel about those wretched creatures.”

Crowley throws back his head and laughs, loud and clear. Aziraphale doubts he will ever hear a more beautiful sound. “Whatever you say, angel.” There’s a pause, a moment when he looks incredibly uncomfortable before he continues. There is something soft and almost nervous in his voice. “You know, there’s supposed to be a clear sky tonight and I heard that Venus should be visible.”

Aziraphale’s heart stutters. If he’s not careful, he might let himself think that Crowley is asking to watch the stars together. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Crowley adjusts his sunglasses, which are completely ridiculous to be wearing at this time of night and indoors, besides. “Do you want me to show you?”

Aziraphale breathes in deep. He stares at Crowley, at this beautiful, wonderful man in front of him, who loves fish and fossils just as much as Aziraphale does. This man who loves the stars more than all of those combined. This man who is asking him on what sounds an awful lot like a date.

He exhales and lets the breath drag words from his chest and out into the open air, “Please. I would like nothing more.”

Crowley beams. He looks both surprised and elated. Aziraphale catalogues it away as yet another expression that he will never get enough of. “Terrific! I’ll let you finish up here and meet you outside in thirty minutes?” He stumbles backwards, his smile slipping for a moment as he trips over his own feet. He finds his balance and that smile is back in full force. He waves cheerily at Aziraphale and struts from the building.

Aziraphale laughs fondly and turns to his desk, where the orchid mantis is staring at him with its unnerving eyes. He shudders and snatches the wretched thing off his desk. The faster he puts it away, the sooner he gets to see Crowley.


	2. All Aflutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date under the stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for them to kiss at some point but then they cuddled and kissing went out the window. There is the possibility of a third chapter where kissing does happen but that depends entirely on how these final two weeks of school go. 
> 
> Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed this little island tryst!

Aziraphale finishes his examinations of the red snapper and orchid mantis in record time. His hands shake with jittery nerves as he places them each in their habitats, taking a few minutes to ensure they settle with no issue. He is excited to meet Crowley, but he would hate to return to unhappy animals. When he is satisfied with the introduction of each creature, he returns to his desk, where the velociraptor jaw still sits.

For a moment, he is tempted to sit down with his magnifying glass and begin examining the wondrous thing. It has been so long since he’s seen a jawbone in that good of condition. Then he thinks of gentle auburn waves and the prospect of seeing another planet from this tiny island.

The bones have waited millennia for him to examine them. They can wait a few more hours.

He checks his watch. Ten minutes until he is supposed to meet Crowley. He wanders over to his full-length mirror and begins to fret. He is a mess; his hair is curling in every direction, his cream coat is covered in a thin layer of dust from the fossils he worked on earlier that day, and his bowtie is askew. He scrambles to make himself presentable, spending perhaps a tad too much time on the hair.

Perhaps, after tonight, he will begin to put a little more effort into looking like a functioning member of a society.

When he looks less like a dusty cloud, he glances at his watch again and shrieks. He is three minutes late!

Crowley is sitting under a tree when he bursts from the museum. “I’m so sorry for my tardiness, my dear. Completely lost track of the time.”

Crowley snickers at him and stands, brushing dirt and twigs from his astonishingly tight pants. “A few minutes is hardly tardy, angel. Anyway, I don’t mind waiting, not if it’s for you.”

Warmth spreads through Aziraphale’s face and he looks up at the stars to distract Crowley from seeing him blush. “My apology still stands. Now, where is the best seat for watching the stars?”

They make their way to the tallest point on the island, a fair distance walk from the little town at the center. Waiting for them are two chairs and a bottle of wine, nestled in a bucket of ice. Aziraphale gasps and inspects it. “Wherever did you get this? I’ve been trying to talk Gabriel into getting me a bottle for ages. He just keeps saying I shouldn’t ingest gross matter.” He scrunches his nose in disgust, an imitation of Gabriel’s favorite expression.

Crowley snorts then smirks, lazy and confident. “Shouldn’t go to Gabriel for these things. His little lackeys are the ticket. Michael and Uriel have their ways,” Crowley drawls. “A few favors here and there and they can get you anything you want.” His confident smirk drops and he takes an air of absolute sincerity, “You can’t tell Gabriel, though. I would feel terrible if the Celestial Cranny got in trouble on my behalf.”

With a scoff, Aziraphale places the bottle back in its bucket of ice. “Don’t worry, Crowley. Your secret is safe with me. After all, it will likely become my secret soon enough.”

They smile stupidly at each other for a moment. Then Crowley jumps into motion, clearing his throat and avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. “Venus should be getting into position.” He gently leads Aziraphale to one of the chairs, urging him to sit before plopping into the other, swiping up the wine bottle in the same movement.

The cork pops and they wait patiently for it to breathe before they are both cradling half-full glasses.

The night sky is bright and colorful and full of more stars than Aziraphale thought possible. Deep reds and purples glow amidst the dark blue, the stars glinting cheekily through all those colors. Crowley sighs beside him, a happy, content sound. Aziraphale turns his head, looks at the man next to him, wreathed in starlight. His red hair shimmers like the galaxies painted above and his skin glows in the moon’s half-light.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He doesn’t realize he’s said anything until Crowley is staring at him, eyebrows practically in his hairline and cheeks glowing pink. He panics for a brief moment, wishes he could snatch the words back out of the air. Aziraphale has known this man for two months. Of that time, most of their conversations have been completely professional. He can’t start saying things like that, no matter how true the statement.

Then Crowley smiles a little shy thing that barely makes it onto his lips at all. Still, it lights up his face, makes him glow even brighter under the night sky. “Nah, I’m too dirty for all that.” He swipes at some of the ever-present dirt on his clothing, a side effect of digging holes and chasing bugs all day. His blush darkens and he ducks his head, hiding his face behind his shoulder-length hair, “You’re the beautiful one here, angel.”

Aziraphale hums but doesn’t argue. He doesn’t want to embarrass the poor dear too much.

They sip their wine and watch the stars. Aziraphale finds his attention drawn to Crowley every few minutes until he stops looking at the sky entirely and focuses all his attention on this glorious creature beside him.

“Sometimes, I really think you are one, you know,” Crowley says apropos of nothing, swirling his wine around thoughtfully.

Aziraphale makes a confused sound. “I’m one what, my dear?”

Crowley laughs softly and finally takes his glasses off, showing off his lovely eyes, “An angel. You certainly look like one. Practically cherubic, you are. Like something from a painting. Did you know that when you stand in the light just right, your hair looks like a halo?”

Aziraphale splutters over the wine he just tried to swallow. Before he can clear his throat enough to answer, Crowley is continuing, amusement coloring his voice, “But I’m always relieved to find you are a simple mortal every time I bring a bug in. I mean, what kind of angel would call an insect ‘wretched’ and ‘the bane of my existence’?”

“Any angel worth their halo, I would imagine,” Aziraphale sniffs petulantly. Then the rest of what Crowley said hits him. “You’re relieved? Of what? Surely I wouldn’t be that bad of an angel.” He can’t help the small pout that draws his chin down, revealing the soft curve of extra fat between his jawbone and neck. He’s almost embarrassed at the reminder of his size, nearly moves to lift his head and hide his double chin. But Crowley’s eyes are on him, pupils dilated and irises practically glowing. He raises a hand, as if to reach for Aziraphale’s face but retracts at the last second, instead moving to fix glasses that are no longer on his face.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, something like, “Ngk,” and empties the last of his wine, tilting his head back and giving Aziraphale a lovely view of his neck. The smirk he tosses Aziraphale’s way is slightly ruined by his slowly returning blush but it doesn’t show in his voice. He sounds just as cool and collected as ever. “If you were an angel, then I imagine I’d have one hell of a time seducing you.”

“Seducing…?” Aziraphale mumbles. He looks at the wine, the quiet secluded area, the beautiful view of the sky, and finally at Crowley, at those hungry eyes. The poor dear is looking more and more nervous the longer Aziraphale takes to respond. “My dear, if you wanted to have sex you simply had to ask.”

Now it’s Crowley’s turn to splutter. He stares at Aziraphale with wide eyes, noises that almost sound like words coming out of his mouth, before he clears his throat and manages an eloquent, “Wot.”

Aziraphale laughs and finishes off his own wine, forcing down his disappointment. It made sense. Crowley didn’t interact much with the other residents of the island. Aziraphale was the only one he had proper conversations with, other than Uriel, perhaps. But one of Gabriel’s lackeys was hardly fuckable. Which left Aziraphale as the prime choice for a partner. 

“You hardly had to go through all the trouble of setting this up for a one-night stand. Although, I have always wanted to be fucked under the stars. We may need to find a blanket, perhaps. Can’t imagine the ground is terribly comfortable.” He’s rambling, he knows, but what is else is he supposed to do? Crowley is still staring at him like he has grown another head and he’s finding it rather disconcerting, actually. “Besides, it really is quite muddy up here and I’d hate to find dirt in unpleasant places in the morning. Do you think Celestial Cranny might have one in stock?”

He forces himself to stop talking, to give Crowley a chance to say something.

Crowley stares at him some more, mouth agape and eyebrows hunkered down in confusion. “Angel- Aziraphale, what are you talking about?”

For a moment, Aziraphale doubts the conclusion he’s drawn and hope flares in his chest. “You said you wanted to seduce me. Usually, seduction leads to sex. I assumed that’s what this was all about. Did I get it wrong?”

Crowley leans forward, elbows on his knees, expression severe. He doesn’t look at Aziraphale, instead focusing on his clasped fingers, but he sounds so earnest Aziraphale doesn’t doubt he’s telling the truth, “I would love to fuck you, angel. Believe me when I say I’ve imagined it on many different occasions. But,” he pauses and swallows, runs a hand through his hair, and meets Aziraphale’s eyes. He looks terrified and hopeful and like he’s about to cry. Aziraphale finds he feels very much the same way. “I don’t just want to fuck you. I want to date you too. I want to hold you at night and wake up with you in the morning and do all the stupid, sappy shit people do when they’re in relationships.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale wants that too. Quite a lot, actually. The thought of slipping into bed with Crowley, waking up with Crowley’s long limbs wrapped around him, being domestic with Crowley, makes his belly clench and his heart swoon. “In that case, by all means,” he hopes his words are audible over the thudding of his heart, “Seduce me.”

A grin makes its slow way across Crowley’s face. Eventually, it reaches his eyes and sparks a hint of mischief that Aziraphale is far too familiar with.

“Hope you know what you’re asking for, angel. I won’t hold back.”

“I wouldn’t stand for it.”

Crowley laughs and Aziraphale is certain there isn’t a single sound more precious than that laugh. Then he’s standing and making his way over to Aziraphale’s chair, pausing beside it long enough to refill his glass, and then he’s sitting in Aziraphale’s lap.

Aziraphale yelps and spreads his legs, squirming around to make room for Crowley’s lithe frame in the chair that is far too small for both of them.

Crowley snickers and presses a hand to one of Aziraphale’s thighs. He freezes at the touch. Crowley’s hand is warm through his trousers and Aziraphale realizes he wants more of that warmth touching him.

“Just relax, angel,” Crowley murmurs, sipping his wine and leaning back against Aziraphale’s chest, “Let me know if you want to stop.”

The mere idea of losing this contact is scandalous. He wraps his arms around Crowley’s small waist, squeezing lightly and fidgeting with the hem of Crowley’s shirt. “Not a chance, my dear. This is unexpected, but not unwanted.”

They are quiet for several minutes, enjoying each other’s warmth, listening to their breaths fall into sync. Aziraphale nestles his nose into Crowley’s hair and breathes him in. Crowley, his wine glass discarded beside the ice bucket, links their hands together with a happy hum. 

Then he jumps slightly, lifts a hand still wrapped around Aziraphale’s, and points to a spot just above the horizon. “There she is! The little red spot just there. Do you see?”

Aziraphale squints to follow his finger, placing his chin on Crowley’s shoulder to get a better look. “I think so. Just left of the cloud that looks like a duck?”

“Yup! That’s Venus, the one and only. It’s the only one we can see at night, but it’s the brightest of the planets. S’why it’s named after the goddess of beauty.”

Aziraphale leans his head against Crowley’s and watches the twinkling planet. It makes him feel small, knowing how large that tiny speck in the night sky really is. He squeezes Crowley closer, buries his face in Crowley’s neck, takes in the scent of dust and sweat and something wholly Crowley.

“It’s getting late. You wanna head back to the museum?” Crowley asks quietly, smoothing a thumb over Aziraphale’s knuckles.

Aziraphale shakes his head. “I’d like to stay a bit longer if that’s alright.”

Crowley hums, sounding pleased, and relaxes fully against him. “Fine by me. We can stay however long you’d like.”

Aziraphale thinks he’d like to stay here for the rest of his life. Maybe even longer. Until his leg, which is pressed against the arm of the chair, goes numb. Then he figures a few more minutes will be plenty. He adjusts his position, attempting to find something more comfortable and less numbing without Crowley noticing.

Of course, it doesn’t work. It’s impossible to be pressed between someone’s legs and not notice when they move, after all. It doesn’t take long for Crowley to figure out the situation and he snorts. “You could have said something, angel.” He frees himself from Aziraphale’s arms and stretches. Aziraphale takes a moment to appreciate the silhouette of his body against the stars. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

The museum is just as they left it, dark and empty. Aziraphale worries at his fingers. He’s never been good at saying goodbye on dates, always finds some way to make it awkward.

Crowley doesn’t seem to have that problem. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek, pulling back with a small smile and a glint in his eye. “How about a second date? I can show you the orchard I’ve been working on?”

“That would be wonderful, Crowley.” Aziraphale beams. He can still feel the press of Crowley’s lips on his skin, the warmth that radiates off the man, “How does Wednesday morning sound?”

“I can do Wednesday morning. I’ll stop by around ten, alright?” Crowley tries not to smile but his grin keeps sneaking onto his face, “Have a good night, angel.”

Aziraphale watches him walk away and turns into the museum. He smiles at the fossil resting on his desk and settles into his chair. He can’t wait for Wednesday to get here.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know in the comments if you want more of this story. It was really fun to write it, so it probably won't take much convincing to get another chapter out of me
> 
> I am also on tumblr if you want to make requests or just yell with me over there


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